All Alone
by Rose G
Summary: The new Dark Lord has gained control of Middle Earth, and Aragorn is dying. The age of Man has began. Final chapter now up! Please r/r
1. Defeat

All alone Chapter 1  
By Rose G  
  
Discliamer: I don't own any of these, they're all Tolkien's. Anyway, it isn't worth sueing me - I'm broke again. BTW, this is my first ever piece of fanfic, so be nice. R/r PLEASE.  
  
  
Aragorn walked out of Gondor the same way that years ago he had entered it. Quietly, unobtrusive and quickly. Left with a heavy heart and stinging eyes as behind him rose the wailing of the women and children for their loved ones, and the bickering of the few remaining men as they fought over his crown.  
  
A stranger to the area would only have seen a lanky man, clad in a travel stained cloak and worn leather boots. Maybe they would have commented on his long hair and his steely grey eyes. Certainly they would have noticed his steady loping strides, and his rugged good looks. But only a very few in the world would have known that his face was pale from pain, and that he fought back tears with every regular step.  
  
Jog, jog, jog, endless jogging that Aragorn forced himself to do simply because it hurt him, and because physical exhaustion was the only way he knew to stop the terrifying memories from creeping up on his troubled mind. The endless miles covered on foot in darkness jarred his long legs until even walking was an agony. His attempts to sleep proved fruitless, for his sweat turned chill on his skin and pain like knives jumped from his wounds. The only colour about him was his dark hair and the rich blood that seeped from his wounds. Long years had passed since Aragorn had been injured, and the fear of the unknown was heavy upon him.  
  
Fear - fear of what was happening behind him in Minas Tirith, and what would happen to himself, for he was unable to go back to Gondor or Rivendell, drove him on, down the old path. Past the sights of the outward journey he stumbled, going through Moria in a sprint caused by terror. He found the shelter of the stone trolls, and cast himself down into a sleep that he thought he would never awaken from.  
  
It was much later when he had the strength to move. Anduril he left behind him, too tired to lift it. Never had a Ranger, a man of the Dunedain, come creeping so pitifully into Hobbiton, as Aragorn son of Arathorn did that night, four weeks after he set out. Moving at a pathetic broken gait, he sobbed for breath even as he approached Bag End.  
  
He tapped hesitatingly at the brightly painted door much like Gandolf had done one fine Spring day years before. No answer came, and he let himself in, settling down in the darkest corner. Blood run from his wounds, his whole body felt heavy as lead and everything was growing dark. Fear clawed at his great heart.   
  
It was thus that Gandolf, stopping at Bag End for reasons of his own, found him. It was a strange sight that greeted the hobbits - the man more dead than alive, and the White Rider stooped over him. Briefly, one part of the Fellowship of The Ring was reunited. 


	2. Re-united

All alone Chapter 2  
By Rose G  
Disclaimer: None of these are mine - they all belong to Tolkien. Don't even think of sueing me though, because I'm broke. BTW, this is my first ever bit of fanfic, so please be nice about, else I won't do chapter 3. R/r as always.  
  
Aragorn looked up blankly at Gandalf, as though in a waking dream. 'Gandalf...' His voice was hoarse, choking back tears, yet for a moment, Frodo saw the King Elessar: a great monarch at the height of his powers that he would never now reach. Then the vision was gone, departed on the wind, and Strider appeared once more as a battle scarred ranger, blood stained, eyes ringed with red and raven dark hair streaked with grey.   
  
'Sorry, Aragorn.' The wizard laid an affectionate hand on Strider's shoulder and moved so that he shielded the Dunedain from the hobbits view. 'I, Gandalf the White, did foresee this evil approach, yet I knew nothing could have altered it if all Middle Earth had joined together, Orcs, Goblins, Wargs and all. Therefore, it seemed cruel to tell you about what was going to happen, which could not be prevented. You could do no more than what you did, and that seems to have been much. Rest now a little, for you are safe and things may seem less black in the clear light of morning, if indeed morning ever comes again, for Mordor is rising even as the day wanes. War comes, but we must rest. Stay here for a night.'  
  
Briskly, Gandalf lead Aragorn away, into a side room. The tall Ranger forgot to duck his head, and swore bitterly at the pain. He mumbled something at Frodo about the height of the roof and the incompetence of hobbit builders. The three hobbits, Sam, Rosie and Frodo waited for what seemed an eternity until Aragorn's harsh breathing slowed into that of sleep, and Gandalf emerged, the white fire that always seemed to flicker from him somehow dimmed.  
  
Without haste, the wizard looked around and a half smile crossed his worn face. Almost immediately, there was a knock on the door, followed by the entrance of two large hobbits clad in bright mail and unusually serious faces. They showed no surprise at meeting Gandalf, and less at hearing the news about Aragorn.  
  
Bewildered, Frodo glanced from them to Gandalf, then in the direction of Aragorn's room. 'What is going on, Gandalf? What is wrong with Aragorn, and why do you speak of Mordor rising again? Sauron is gone, we saw him fall, and I believe that he died. And few now in Middle Earth, save you and Aragorn, have the power to raise anew a dead kingdom.'  
  
'Yes Frodo, but what if the raiser of the kingdom is one who has already overcame death? What obstacle would that then be to him? And he has the memory of the ring to help him, for he coveted that ring, and I felt this would happen if he ever got his thieving hands on it, for he is more treacherous than Gollum.'  
  
Frodo interrupted. 'But who is he, and what has happened to Aragorn?'  
  
'I will not speak his name here, Frodo, for you do not wish to hear it. As for Aragorn, he was at the brink of death ere he arrived, and my hands are not those of a healer. No healer with the necessary skill resides now in Middle Earth, save for Aragorn alone. I believe his days are numbered, and that he is aware of that. And an end is come for the line of Kings from over Sea. He has sired no heirs, and Arwen has left. King Elessar is no more, for he has left while Minas Tirith burns unchecked and Gondor lies torn asunder. No longer will Rohan and Dol Amroth ride to his aid, for war marches swiftly and engages all their strength.'  
  
Sam was weeping now, even as Merry and Pippin's cheerful faces sobered instantly. War was something they had left long behind them, and now it came knocking on the door. And Gandalf was automatically back in his old position of leader. 'What is wrong with Strider, Gandalf, and why does he cry so?'   
  
'Much, Merry, that will not heal ere many long ages of this world, if ever. Grief such as he has never known, even allowing for what he suffered at Halbarad's passing. Defeat in a battle of which he had no warning, which ill becomes such a leader of men, and near mortal wounds sustained because he attempted to fight on when all was lost, so his men would have a chance to escape. And if Valar is merciful, he will not live to hear of the final fall of Minas Tirith which is unavoidable, and maybe the least of all the evils that will occur.'  
  
'Gandalf!' The lilting tone was familiar to them all - the sweet fair voice, echo of a golden time, far back when the world was young, and Mordor just another country. Legolas was there on the doorstep, fair hair lank with sweat, blue eyes worried and pained. Gimli skulked behind him, brown beard jutting at an angle as he glared at the architecture.  
  
'My dear Gimli, now is not the time to be disparaging about hobbit stonework. Poor Frodo has already endured Aragorn's comments on this.' Gandalf spoke quietly, and the great grey horse standing beside Legolas called and tossed his noble head.  
  
'Yes, Gandalf, it was your Shadowfax who carried me, first to Gimli and then here. He seemed to sense war on the wind, and such an animal is not to be argued with. I did not believe that he would suffer me to sit him, but he did and bore us here. Never have I sat such an animal, for we raced the wind of battle and won. Now I find that he raced once again on the wings of a storm.'  
  
Gandalf spoke gently to the beast, then to Legolas. 'Turn him free, he will come when I need him'. He led them inside again, into the sitting room that had been Bilbo's, and began to talk. Years ago, Bilbo had set off on his journey after just such a talk. Everything was as it had been, and only time had changed. But time changes lives as well, ending some, starting others...  
  
'Arwen has departed hurriedly over Sea, with the two sons of Elrond. I think that Aragorn commanded her, for he has the foresight of his race, and knows that much is ending. He would not wish her to suffer, but by observing his wishes, she has broken his heart. He grieves for her, and his wounds do not heal. Yet I sense another girl waits to speak to him, a girl who may hold the fate of Middle Earth in her unknowing hands.'  
  
'Now sleep, for we ride to war ere break of day as evil has risen again. And Shadowfax shall bear Aragorn into battle and to victory, for his days are waning and my wish is that they end in the glory for which he longed.'  
  
Well - I've done this chapter, which I never thought I would. Sorry for the Aragorn bashing, but you always hurt the one you love. Can you guess who the Dark Lord is yet? All the clues are in there. Put any guesses in reviews, please. Let me know if anyone wants chap. 3 


	3. For love of Aragorn

ALL ALONE CHAPTER 3   
by ROSE G  
Disclaimer - These ain't my characters, never have been, never will be.   
Note - Mel, I apologise for doing this to your favourite character, and I'll help you with that A-Z when I get a minute. And if your initials are T.J, and you know a Rose and a Mel, and you're a Tolkien fan like us, please give us a break on the homework.  
  
  
As the sun rose undimmed for the last time in Middle Earth, darkness was seeping onwards over the horse fields of Rohan, the majesty of Minas Tirith, the forbidding splendour of the Lonely Mountain and the beauty of Lothorien. And Aragorn paced the Shire even as the hobbits prepared to leave. A strange restlessness filled him, forcing him to walk ever onwards at the halting gait that would mark him for the rest of his days, short though they would be.  
  
He was afraid now, in a way he had never been. Afraid of something that would happen whatever he did. He was bitterly afraid of his death, now it was near. The doom of man was something he had always regarded as a gift - a chance to escape Middle Earth when all had become too much for him - and now the thought filled him with dread. Yet whatever murky circles outside the span of the mortal world he was destined to tread, he would remember the Shire and the sharp taste of pipe-weed in his mouth, for he had loved them.  
  
He shook his head as he walked, still unable to believe what he had heard Gandalf mutter last night, as he kept watch over the ranger on his last night in the Shire that he had guarded for so many years. 'Boromir....' His voice trailed away into silence, broken only by his racking cough.  
  
Gandalf, back into position as leader, was arguing with Pippin over travel plans. 'Fool of a Took! Aragorn is dying, and the Dark Lord is massing his armies. Orcs, I am told, are marching into Gondor, and you ask if there is time to stop off at the Prancing Pony. We must hurry to Bree, for it is only there that assistance can come for Aragorn. Where is he, anyway?'  
  
'Gone off.' Gimli growled through a large mouthful of cram. Outside, Legolas was mounting a fiery elven horse, whose chestnut coat was gleaming with the light of the sun, moon and stars captured in the hide of a living beast. Merry and Sam were waiting, complaining about the weight of their packs, and the fact that Gandalf and Aragorn would ride as they walked. The two groups, according to Gandalf would go different ways - but which, the White Rider would not say.  
  
A girl waited at Bree, in a meeting destined since the time Aragorn had first looked at Arwen walking under the star shine at Rivendell. As old as time she seemed, with ethereal beauty that had not been seen since Luthien herself had walked the fair glades and in her eyes was wisdom greater than that possessed by Elrond. And it was for Aragorn, Telcontar, the Ranger of the Dunedain, that she waited. Aragorn, who had gifted his heart to Elrond's daughter, who had gone over sea long days since. Aragorn, upon whom the burden of saving Middle Earth was laid and who rejected the burden because he would fight on his own rather than ask for help.  
  
Gandalf called Shadowfax to him, and the great horse whose mane and tail looked like the spray from a cascading waterfall as he moved came to him, head lifted in greeting. The group headed out, Gandalf on Shadowfax, bearing his staff and Aragorn's pack. Legolas and Gimli rode together, followed by the four hobbits walking alongside Sam's beloved Bill, who was carrying the packs.  
  
Something, a sense of something ending made Frodo look back at Bag End, Bilbo's home before it had been his, the setting were so many dramas in the War of the Ring had been played. 'Farewell.' He whispered under his breath, as he realised that he would never see the place again.  
  
Most of that day, they rode in the half-light that had covered the Shire since dawn. It was not a mist, nor cloud, but something so tangible that they felt they could touch it. And when they flagged, and Bill stumbled, only love of Gandalf and Aragorn carried them on, step by weary step.   
  
Aragorn was waiting for them as they forded the Brandywine River; his grey cloak pulled over his head as he lay waiting. Darkness was seeping over him, as unstoppable as the tide of the Sea over which Arwen had gone. His sword arm, the one that had been injured in that last dreadful battle between the forces of Gondor and the first line of attack that had issued out of Minas Tirith itself, was aching, the wound touching the bone. Long had he fought in that battle, at first from Roheryn's sturdy back and then on foot when a snarling Warg had unhorsed him. And then, under cover of darkness, he had left the battlefield as a defeated, hunted leader of a beaten army. They had believed him dead in that battle, and as far as he knew, the few survivors in Gondor were still mourning for their King Elessar, Elfstone.  
  
Gandalf looked at the ranger with pity, and realised that the only hope for both Aragorn and Middle Earth itself lay in a swift journey to Bree and the fact that the Valar themselves were taking an interest. He sighed as Aragorn rose unsteadily to his feet and leant on Shadowfax, who stood as one turned to stone. Never had he stood so patiently while war sounded in his ears, and never had his coat shone so brightly, a beacon of hope and a reminder of the days that had gone, as the darkness seeped around them.   
  
A few minutes later, when night fell they was travelling again, Aragorn riding Shadowfax, and the hobbits jogging to keep up. The elven horse pranced, wanting to go faster, and making light of the two riders it bore. Gandalf walked beside his mighty steed, White Rider and White Horse together, and a light shone about them and Aragorn too, as they went to war to save the realms they had believed free of fear after Sauron fell.  
  
Aragorn rode as one in a dream, for Shadowfax's gait was easy, and all fear had left him as long as Gandalf stood with him. With the sight that belonged to his race, he could see the armies invading Gondor, Minas Tirith laying burnt and a man on the outskirts of Mordor controlling the armies. A shade, a mere wraith of a man with a proud face, raven dark hair, and eyes of grey. In his control lay the Orcs, the evil Wargs, trolls and fell nameless beasts. And a werewolf, greater than the mighty beast slain by Hourn when the World was young, howled it's loathsome curse as it lay below Rohan gap. Aragorn's lips formed the words 'I trusted you' but he had no strength to speak them. Gandalf turned to him as they reached Bree, and Aragorn saw through the mist that clouded his eyes, the girl who waited for him.   
  
The rest of the Company gathered around Gandalf, and waited. For a long moment they looked at each other, feeling the pain of leaving, and then Gandalf spoke.   
  
'We have spent long in each other's company, yet an end is come. Middle Earth is waning - our days are almost done. Aragorn shall fight on, for that is his nature, and I shall not leave while he stands undefeated. But I can not lead you into this war, for the efforts of mortals are useless against the power of the Lord, who was once trusted by us, and who has overcame death in a way even I, Gandalf, could not. This is a war we cannot win, and yet I say to you, fight and be proud. There are still the Havens, and maybe I shall meet you there, and maybe we shall meet in battle, but I feel in my heart that it shall not be so. Fare thee well, my friends.' He walked quickly away, Shadowfax by his side and Aragorn raised a hand in farewell.  
  
The four hobbits, Legolas, and Gimli looked at each other. Alone, confused and now leaderless, it felt to Frodo as though Gandalf had lead him into danger and then abandoned him. It was Legolas who spoke first. 'Gandalf fears the dark lord in a way he never feared Sauron. He has spoken of him, and I heard Aragorn's mutterings as he rode. I fear that I know of whom they speak, and evil it is if I guess right. I believe that the man they fear may be...'  
  
A clear voice floated back to them on the breeze. 'Yrch!' Aragorn yelled in the elven tongue that he knew so well. A bow sung, there was a thud as of a horseman falling, and only Shadowfax's call disturbed the night. The company fell silent, and Legolas never finished his sentence.  
  
  
  
This is two chapters more than I planned to write, and there's a couple more to come. I promise to reveal whom the Dark Lord is in the next chapter, as if you can't guess it from all those clues. It might be a while before chapter 4, because of the homework situation. Please R/r, those reviews keep me going. 


	4. Disbelief

ALL ALONE CHAPTER 4  
By Rose G  
Disclaimer - Not mine, no money being made etc. Who else thinks there ought to be a key on a computer that writes disclaimers for you?  
Note- you finally find out who the Dark Lord is in this chapter.  
  
  
Aragorn lay slumped over Shadowfax's withers; one strong arm slipped around the stallion's muscular crest that rose high into a small head. His long raven dark hair, which fell forward over his forehead, mingled like water with Shadowfax's mane, and he prayed that the grey would not so much as shift his weight or rise his head.  
  
Gandalf, moving at a speed which belied his appearance, hurried over to his horse, leaving the Fellowship for the last time without a word of farewell. Even in his haste, he took care to stand heavily on the felled Orc that lay there, with an arrow protruding from its back.  
  
'Aragorn? That was a mighty shot, my friend, even if it was with Legolas's bow - and I am sure he is looking for it as we speak.'  
  
Startled, the ranger looked around, and his vision blurred with the sudden movement. He clutched hopelessly at Shadowfax's mane, yet smiled slightly as he beheld the girl in the far reaches of his vision. Aragorn regonised her as an Elf, one who even to his eyes was fairer than Arwen had ever been.  
  
'Gandalf, are there any more Orcs around?' His voice, that had once rung as clear as any Elven Lord, was but a harsh whisper, telling of his pain clearer than any words.   
  
'No. And even if there were, Aragorn, I would not let you ride towards them. You should have spoken long ago, for only now do I realise that the journey from Gondor to the Shire and then from the Shire to here has pained you greatly. I did not realise how badly you were injured, and you have not told me of the extent of your wounds, or indeed, how you got them.'  
  
'What is the point, Gandalf? I know my fate - it is to die alone while others fight, and I do nothing save watch, and there is nothing in Middle Earth to hold me here now. Arwen is gone, and with her my heart dwells, yet she has gone over sea, and therefore, I cannot hope to see her again. Gondor has fallen under the shadow, and if Minas Tirith falls, there is nothing at all for me here.'  
  
Gandalf spoke gently to Shadowfax, and the horse walked on with regal strides. Aragorn closed his grey eyes as one in great pain, and a convulsive shudder run through his lean body. Stubbornly, he clenched his jaw, and refused to look at Gandalf. Then, as he dimly heard what sounded like a war cry of the Orcs, he swooned, and slipped silently from the stallion's back onto the wet grass. Gandalf saw the bloodstains on Shadowfax's coat, and crouched by the prone figure on the grass.  
  
He had planned to spend the night in the Prancing Pony, but he now realised that it was unlikely Aragorn would ever again move from here. Silently, he removed the ranger's cloak, gently touching the wounds that it was beyond his skill to heal. His sword arm was a mass of chipped bone and blood, his chest almost destroyed, so that the wizard could see the laboured movement of the great heart. Softly, he laid one hand on Aragorn's pale forehead, and listened to the harsh breathing.   
  
Gandalf was no healer, but he done what he could, and then stoked the fire and kept silent watch over Aragorn, whose face showed his pain even as he slept. He clasped the ranger's hand in his, and bowed his head in grief as a soft shower of rain fell, silently as snow.  
  
Some miles away now, for despite having no clear idea of where they were going, they were making good time, the six remaining members of the Fellowship were arguing. Only Frodo kept out of it, too tired to worry about anything. Sam, his face concerned, sat beside his master.  
  
'Go to Rohan.' Merry stated, his voice unusually decisive. 'We could ride with them, and Eowyn would want to help friends of Aragorn.'  
  
'Minas Tirith,' Pippin said. 'It is the safest place, and although Aragorn claimed Gondor had been nearly destroyed, I feel that it is still stronger than anywhere else. And I believe that Aragorn is heading there with Gandalf.' His voice was hopeful.   
  
'Fool of a Took, you are, Peregrine. Did you not listen to Gandalf? Aragorn cannot come to Minas Tirith. He will not recover from his wounds. He has gone away, to die in the wild country that he loves, and Gandalf has gone with him, for he will not leave a friend alone to face such a fate. We shall not see Aragorn again, and all we can hope is that his end is swift.'  
  
'Also, Gandalf said that the fall of Minas Tirith was inevitable, and I do not believe that we should make our decisions tonight. If the war cannot be won and you do not know who the Dark Lord is, what use is talk?' Legolas spoke quietly, his fair voice troubled, for upon him already lay the mantle of a leader.  
  
Frodo nodded assent, and the half-hearted talk ceased as they prepared to sleep. Only Legolas remained alert, pacing as others slept, soft starlight gleaming in his hair, his blue eyes saddened. Tears, reflected by the moonlight, rolled down his cheeks, and he did not care when Gimli walked up to him.  
  
The pair stood together, while Legolas spoke almost to himself. 'I first knew him long ago, Gimli. He dwelt in Rivendell for many years and I often met him. I have seen how heavily the years have lain upon him, yet only now do I understand how cruel mortality is to one who is not ready for death. I am proud to have called him friend.'  
  
Gimli did not answer, instead looking away into the far distance, until the elf felt that his companion was walking not in the glade but in some place far away, maybe under the lonely mountain, or in the fair clearings of Lorain. In truth, the dwarf was remembering the nightmare journey along the Paths of the Dead, and Aragorn leading the way without a trace of fear. He recollected Aragorn's clear voice lifted up in song chasing away the creeping darkness, and being held to the path only by his love for the heir of kings who dressed as a wanderer of the wild. He muttered a few words in the secret dwarf tongue, and added 'Me to, Legolas.' Then he walked away, head held low.  
  
The Hobbits also slept badly that night, their dreams seeming disturbingly real and the fear of the forthcoming war reached even into their sleep. And the next morning, it was Legolas, with reddened eyes and a chocked voice, that spoke to them.   
  
The Fellowship stood under that same rainfall that touched Aragorn and Gandalf, as Legolas told them of many things they had only half known. 'I know only what Gandalf has said, and he is as close as he ever was, and Aragorn's mutterings, although many of them were but feverish ramblings. The Lord is a man; a mortal who has overcame death in a way that even Gandalf could not. Gandalf said that our Company once trusted him, and he had a problem to make Aragorn believe what he said.'  
  
'Do - do you mean Boromir?' Sam's voice was faltering, and Frodo gasped in amazement. The other hobbits, equally awestruck, looked at Legolas as though he had gone mad.  
  
'Indeed I do, Sam, and why not? He was known as a valiant warrior in Minas Tirith, and a leader of men he certainly was. We saw proof of his strength many times, and he tried to take the Ring by force. He had thought of domination, and I believe he was clever enough to find a way.'  
  
'Legolas, Boromir is dead. I saw Aragorn send his boat over the Falls. How can he be the Dark Lord?'  
  
'He did not die, Merry. Aragorn mentioned a wraith of a man commanding the armies, and he compared it to the Nazgul. He spoke of it as he slept, and that its strength seemed to be it's own, rather than depending on anything. This is what we feared, for it cannot be so different to the Nazgul, and they were terrible. And I saw, if we are to do anything, we should ride for Rivendell, where Elrond may advise us. And put hopes of Aragorn saving Minas Tirith out of your head, for he is dying, and for all I know, his life is already ended.'  
  
As they moved off in silence, Frodo quietly voiced the feelings of them all. 'I wish I could see him once again.' And Sam added 'I wonder who that girl was, the one who Gandalf was talking about?'  
  
Miles away, Aragorn cried out in his sleep and Gandalf sighed heavily as Shadowfax called into the darkness.  
  
  
  
I can't quite believe I've written all this, so I don't really care what you say in reviews, but anyone complaining about what I've done to Aragorn will be answered by another fic, in which he gets hurt worse, so I wouldn't bother. Any useful criticism welcome. Next chapter, you meet this girl they keep talking about. BTW, is anyone still reading this? 


	5. Choices - And a farewell

ALL ALONE CHAPTER 5  
By Rose G  
Disclaimer - These are Tolkien's characters, not mine, and all I get for writing about them is sore hands, late nights, and loads of people complaining about my plots. Not money.  
Note - This is the second last chapter, I think... And anyone who doesn't like Aragorn bashing, I hope you can use a back button, and get out of here.  
  
  
The ranger was aware of the late dawn only as the slight lightening of the dark that surrounded him. His dreams had been unpleasant, memories of the final battle in Gondor, the dreaded sound of the walls of Minas Tirith falling, and visions of Gandalf's fall at the bridge of Khazad-dum, so he was glad when the sun rose, even though he could not see it.  
  
'Aragorn?' Gandalf's hand touched his, bringing him stumbling to the shores of wakefulness, yet the man could not rise his head, or even open his eyes. Aware now of his raging fever, Aragorn could feel his sweat turning cold on him, and a fire burning inside his mind. For a minute, the girl saw them silhouetted by the rising sun, dimmed as it was by the shadows issuing from Minas Tirith and Mordor.  
  
The ranger was sprawled on the ground, his cloak under his head. The wizard no longer appeared as a strong leader of men, rather a defeated old man with no hope for the future. And behind them, Shadowfax's coat gleamed like molten silver as he dipped his dished face to touch Aragorn. His perfection showed up plainly the wreckage of the world about him.  
  
Anyone seeing the stallion then would have backed up the Rohirriam's claim that the sire of their horses had been brought west over sea many years ago. In that fleeting moment, Shadowfax appeared not a horse, but a spirit from the West, a gift from the Valar to Middle Earth. Aragorn smiled weakly, almost a grimace, as some of the mist cleared from his eyes, and he saw for the first time in years, Galadriel, Lady of Lorien. Her golden hair flowed to her waist, her blue eyes shining like the Silmarills must once have shone, and one hand rested on Shadowfax's silky neck.  
  
Aragorn coughed weakly, blood splattering onto Shadowfax's foreleg. He'd never known pain like this; his chest burning, eyes streaming with tears of pain, and his own blood making the ground underneath him slippery. He allowed his eyes to drift shut even as Galadriel stooped over him, and Gandalf lit his pipe.  
  
'King Elessar, awake!'  
  
Suddenly, in the midst of his torment, Aragorn was aware of a feeling of peace that had rarely come to him who had been long fated never to sit at ease. Only at Lorien had he felt such before, and yet the pain was all around him, beyond bearing. He cried out, and the words to one of Bilbo's poems run through his mind like a fox on a trail.  
  
I sit beside the fire  
And think of all that I have seen.  
And then I think of people I shall never met.  
People who will see a world I will never know,  
Who will see again each winter's snow  
And every autumns wind, that will tug their hair.  
And look at every wood in every spring,   
When there is a different green.   
And then I listen for old friends at the door.  
  
It was muddled; he knew that, but he was desperately confused and in pain. He heard Gandalf taking something from the Lady, then felt it pressed to his lips. He swallowed with difficultly; the liquid was tasteless, yet as sweet as honey, as sharp as the taste of blood in battle. His head cleared slightly, and Galadriel spoke.  
  
'Aragorn son of Arathorn listen. As the one chosen by Arwen, the Evenstar of our people, you are important to us, and even if you was not, one who has laboured so long against Sauron would be worthy of our aid, such as we can give. Also, Gandalf the White has spoken to Elrond on this matter, and when one of the Wise speak thus, it is as well to listen.'  
  
'Gandalf says that you aided him greatly in his war against Sauron, and I believe him. He feels that the doom of man should not be laid upon you, for you had no choice in the matter, and that you have done more in your life than anyone ever had a right to expect. You have suffered much, and gained nothing save pain, grief and loneliness. The Eldar are willing for you to come to the Havens and in after days, Valinor itself. It has been ordained that you should have the choice between the doom of men and treading strange circles beyond this world or sailing over sea, to be reunited with Arwen and see what no man has seen - the splendour of the Havens.'  
  
'I will not go and leave my friends to fight unaided.'  
  
Gandalf answered softly, his voice unlevel and halting. 'My friend, you cannot hope to ride again into battle, and the Fellowship must survive for themselves. Our work is done - the war against Boromir belongs to others. All you can do is to follow your heart.'  
  
Aragorn talked to the wizard, rather than Galadriel, not wishing to show his confusion to any other than his old comrade. 'How can I make a choice like that, Gandalf?' He spoke calmly, yet Gandalf had known him long enough to be aware of the note of panic in his friend's voice. Aragorn forced his eyes open and he looked up at the White Rider. And Gandalf realised with pain that his friend's eyes no longer blazed with determination and the wisdom of the Kings from Over Sea. His spirit was broken and it was that, the taste of defeat, the knowledge of fear, rather than his wounds alone that ailed him.  
  
'I cannot go the Havens, Gandalf. I desire to see my beloved again, and yet beyond this world are my parents, and Halbarad, dearer than friend to me. I could not cleave from them, and leave Middle Earth knowing we shall never met again. I was born under a wandering star, or maybe Elven blood runs stronger in my veins than you know, and all my life I have arrived through peril to safety. Once more, I shall risk starting a journey whose end I cannot know. I am Elendil's heir, Ranger of the Dunedain, and I will abide the doom of man.' His voice was clear, and for a second the valour and courage of his youth was apparent, and the winged crown of Gondor appeared to sit again on his brow, and then the vision passed, even as a great thunder of hooves passed them - the Riders of Rohan flying in retreat.  
  
The horses were foam flecked, many with blood on their flanks, where spurs had touched them for the first time in memory. The Riders urged them on, some laying hunched over the forehands of their animal, too sick to ride. And many a mighty steed raced alone, no valiant rider urging it on, for many had fallen. At the head of the charge rode Eowyn, for Eomer had led the first charge with the banner of Rohan in his hand, and as such had become the first to fall. And maybe Eowyn beheld Aragorn laying under the edge of the wood, for a shadow of grief crossed her pale face.   
  
'Rohan has fallen,' said Gandalf softly when they were out of sight. 'Never has there been a retreat like that.'  
  
Galadriel spoke to Aragorn in the same breath. 'So it shall be, Aragorn. I shall not see you again, for the Eldar are leaving Middle Earth, and our paths will not cross. I shall tell Arwen of your decision. Farewell, my friend.' She smiled and stepped onto the Road. The two watched her out of sight.  
  
Weeping, Aragorn turned towards Gandalf. The agony of his wounds come back to him, and he shivered as life flowed from him. His words sounded like a whisper on the East wind. 'Gandalf, tell them that I thank them for allowing me on their quest, for without them there would have been no king in Gondor, and the evil of this day would have been far greater.' His grey eyes slipped shut, his dark hair blowing over his wan face.  
  
So passed Aragorn son of Arathorn, by the side of the Road on which he had spent so much of his life, and with the White Rider beside him. And maybe, if he had had the choice, such would have been his preference.  
  
And with his passing, a sorrowfulness touched the Company, far away though they were. They halted in their tasks, uneasy and the fell things in the service of Boromir surged forward with joy in their hearts. Defeat was almost upon Gondor.  
  
  
  
  
  
I've probably upset everyone with this chapter. Sorry about that, but I don't want any flames, unless they're for spelling - the spell checker went on strike. Chapter 6 is about how the rest of the Fellowship manages, and just how Boromir become the Dark Lord. 


	6. Grief

All Alone Chapter 6  
By Rose G  
  
Disclaimer - These aren't my characters. I'm not making any money. That covers it, doesn't it?  
  
Gandalf rose slowly from his knees, one last tear rolling down his cheek, onto Aragorn's body. The mans eyes were shut, and nothing showed what he had once been. The strange fire that had burnt in his eyes was there no longer; his fighting spirit had gone. Death had claimed a friend, and left a stranger, and only Gandalf's memories remembered what he had been.  
  
Slowly, Gandalf touched one hand to Aragorn's, in a gesture of farewell. The wizard had faced death, overcome it, but it still brought fear to his heart. 'Fare thee well, Strider.' He glanced up into the velvety night sky, at the one star that burnt brighter than the others did, and wondered if Aragorn was already looking down at him.  
  
He turned to Shadowfax, whose grey coat was still stained with Aragorn's blood. The great steed tossed his head, mane and tail streaming behind him, and his hooves struck fire from the earth as he danced. Gandalf touched his muzzle softly, before vaulting onto the stallion's back and turning his head towards Minas Tirith, into the wind. He leant forward, calling to Shadowfax. 'Run, great-heart, run as you have never run before, for never have we had such need of haste, not even on the day when you bore Pippin and I to Minas Tirith, City of Kings.' The horse snorted softly in reply and half reared, before breaking into a gallop.  
  
Gandalf looked back once at the dark bulk of Aragorn's body. There had been no time for burial, or even to collect the wood for a pyre. He was loathe to leave Aragorn like that, but in a curious way, the Ranger had been part of the earth, at one with the beasts and birds, and Gandalf was sure that his body would be left alone by them. Then, the stallion rounded a bend, and Gandalf did not see his friend again in Middle Earth, or Valinor.  
  
It was after three days of hard riding, by the end of which even Shadowfax was stumbling, his coat streaked with sweat, that Gandalf caught up with some of his old comrades. Far in the distance, he could see the towering outline of Minas Tirith, fairest of cities but now dark and forbidding, with the evil flag of Mordor fluttering in the breeze. Nearer to the pair, the green grass of the Rohan horse fields were burnt, littered with arms that had belonged to the riders and the carcasses of their steeds that had come from over Sea long years ago. In the desolate smokey ruins there was only two living things, a wondering footsore horse with its reins dangling around its forefeet that Gandalf recognised as Aragorn's beloved Roheryn, and an eagle wheeling in the murkey sky, unheeding of whether Light or Dark ruled the lands, and whether Aragorn had lived or died.  
  
And Legolas was there, with Gimli beside him, both battle weary and injured. Lord Elrond strode tall in front of them, his sons by his side, and Gandalf was struck once again by their resemblance to Aragorn. As the Ranger had said not long ago, by some freak of nature or will of the Valar, Elven blood had run strongly in his veins, yet not strong enough to give him life unending.  
  
'Legolas! Gimli!' Gandalf shouted to them, glad beyond any words to see them again.  
  
Elrond and the High Elves who were behind him swung to face Gandalf and waited in silence. Glorfindel was the only mounted one, his shining golden hair framing his fair face as he waved his greeting, but it was Elrond, formerly master of Rivendell and still mighty amongst Elves and such Men as he had still to command, who spoke first.  
  
'Gandalf, ever have you come unlooked for when the hour is darkest and hope fails in the bravest heart. Yet this time, I fear it is too late. Me and my kindred fight no longer. Middle Earth is not the haven it once was for our race when the world was young and Sea longing calls in our hearts now as ever. Boromir's forces have claimed Minas Tirith, and a soldier from Mordor wears Aragorn's crown. Rohan has fallen, and Eomer lies in such state as could be found for him. Eowyn and Faramir lead them in long retreat, for Faramir went to Rohan to keep such glory as he could when Minas Tirith fell. I do not know where the Riders are, but from this day hence they shall be but wanderers, vagabonds looking for a dream.'  
  
Legolas walked over to Gandalf, looking to him again as leader. 'What happened to Aragorn, Gandalf?'  
  
The wizard answered shortly. 'He fell. I was with him, and he renounced Galadriel's offer of going to the Havens shortly before. He chose to suffer the doom of men, and endure much pain before his end. Such was his choice, and I did not counsel him to change his mind. He wished me to thank you, although it was unclear what for. Farewell, he said.' He looked steadily at the Elf and Gimli beside him.  
  
'And where do you go now, Legolas and Gimli? Should you not be at Minas Tirith or Rohan, fighting as best as you can against this new evil?'  
  
It was Gimli who answered, somewhat sadly. 'Elrond told us to leave. He felt that the battle is hopeless, and he believes that the time has come for all others to leave Middle Earth to the supremacy of Man. He is going over Sea and Legolas is going with all his kindred. I go with them on Galadriel's honour, for I wish to see her again.'  
  
Gandalf's face clouded as he looked at his two old comrades, and Elrond standing behind them. 'Very well, then. I have always known that Man would one day rule here, and our hopes and struggles would be nothing to them, save memories and tales told as legends, yet never did I fear it would be so soon. But Gimli, Legolas, do not mourn Aragorn overmuch, for he had his choice and followed his heart. Halbarad waits for him, and such an alliance is beyond even my understanding, for it was more than friendship that existed between them, and the bond between them shall never end. I believe Aragorn welcomed death in his own way. I ask only one favour of you, and believe it to be a favour for Aragorn as well, for such was his will, I guess.'  
  
'You have only to ask Gandalf. I feel I and my kindred have failed you in this battle, and aught I can to do repay the failing, I shall do.' Elrond's voice was as soft as the night breeze.   
  
'Aragorn loved Roheryn second only to Arwen, for the horse was a gift from her when first they met. He wanders there on the fields of Rohan, footsore and weary. I beg you, take him with you, for Arwen has nothing save memory to remind her of Aragorn.'  
  
Elrond nodded and Glorfindel rode towards the straying black horse. Without another word, Gandalf whirled Shadowfax, resting his hand on the stallion's crested neck and was away. He waved his farewell, not trusting his voice enough. As Shadowfax jog trotted on through the gathering dusk, Glorfindel caught Roheryan and led him back to Elrond's legions, which had stood alongside Gil-galad in the Last Alliance, long ago. And the Elven kindred were not seen again in Middle Earth after their ride towards the Havens, to ride the ships over the wind brushed seas of silver foam that crashed onto the golden shores of Valinor, far away.  
  
  
One more chapter to do! R/R as ever, please. 


	7. All Alone

All Alone Chapter 7  
By Rose G  
  
Disclaimer - these are not my characters, I have not made any money, and it isn't worth suing me because I'm skint.   
  
Dedication - This is dedicated to Mel, a good mate who bullied me into reading LotR, never yells at me about my fanfic and who is watching the film with me in exactly 9 days. Cheers, mate.   
  
  
Gandalf rode on through the night, on, on, ever onwards. The horse seemed tireless, but Gandalf was weary, the darkness of the world around him sinking into his very heart. He knew that Boromir had been untrustworthy, far back on that day when he had joined the Fellowship in Rivendell, and so unsure he had been, he had confined in Aragorn his worries. Boromir's later attempt to take the Ring had confirmed Aragorn's doubts, but the man had fallen not long after and the matter had been at an end, if life can come to a end while man still speaks the fallen one's name. Dimly, he recalled Aragorn speaking of that day, but the Ranger had been strangely reluctant to talk, as though the memory pained him.  
  
Shadowfax whinnied suddenly in greeting, and a great shout rose from the lee of the hill. 'Gandalf, Gandalf! The White Rider is come again!' Hobbit voices called jubilantly, to each other and to Gandalf himself. They were in plain view now, three of them sitting close together around a small campfire with their packs beside them. Tethered shortly nearby were several ponies, Sam's Bill and the roan that had carried Frodo back from Minas Tirith along with several pack animals.  
  
He dismounted Shadowfax, and greeted each hobbit in turn, rubbing the muzzles of the ponies as though he had spent too long with the Riders of Rohan. 'Where's Pippin?' Gandalf spoke suddenly, around ten minutes later when the other greetings had been completed.  
  
Only then did he see the look on Merry's face, the anger etched on Frodo's and Sam's. He sighed, realising that the other three looked and walked like survivors from a battle.  
  
'He fell, Gandalf. There was a fight, some of the men of Gondor come to aid us, but the Orcs were too many and too strong. They do not fear the sun, and they spoke the speech of Man, after a fashion.We were near to Minas Tirith, because it seemed out of all the lands, the place most worth fighting for. And I believe that doesn't come as a surprise to you, for you told Legolas about Boromir. Pippin died in that battle, overwhelmed by the Orcs. Now, tell me about Boromir's rise, please.' Frodo talked more to Sam than Gandalf.  
  
'I do not believe that he died that long ago night, when the fellowship was broken. Aragorn disliked him greatly, for they were so equal in strength and wisdom it was inevitable they should quarral. When that accursed Orc arrow struck him, I doubt whether Aragorn ever checked to see if he was living, for he saw it as an easy option to remove his main competition. Do not mistake my words, I respected and loved Aragorn as a brother, yet he was never as simple as you would believe. As for Boromir, black treachery was ever in his heart, as Frodo will tell you. He tried to snatch the Ring by force and it was only by luck that he did not.'  
  
'He was gravelly injured by the arrows, yet as a strong warrior he recovered. And even I am not sure what happened then. That river does not lead only to the Falls, so that Boromir would have found it easy to change course and head for Mordor, his natural home. Evil attracts evil, although Boromir was crazed only by the lure of the Ring. He was strong in all save mind, and his lust for power, so it was easy to ensnare him. Poor Boromir, he did not ask for this, and bare that in mind when mourning for Pippin and Aragorn also. And yet he has become the first true King of Men, with no others to oppose his will.'  
  
'And the time for the domination of Men has come, so all other races shall leave Middle Earth soon. And yet the reign of Man, I feel shall never be a happy one, for their first ruler became so by force and fear, and no man's heart, even one so great and noble as Aragorn, is truly free of hate and contempt for others. The Dark Lord is not evil as was Saraman or Sauron, only power hungry and somewhat thoughtless as are all his kind. He does not intend to kill or maim, he follows only what he believes in, without thinking about the harm it may do to others. Do not think of Boromir as evil; rather pity him for his misunderstanding of life. And it will always be so with Men in the Fourth Age and beyond, one will fight for what he believes in, and others will die. All I can say, is let all those who can, leave Middle Earth, or return to the Shire, for now is not our time.   
  
'Frodo, you were a ring bearer, as was Sam. The Havens await you as heroes of a passing Age and Bilbo also. Merry, the Shire is not yet destroyed and I bid you to stay there until your time is come. May you keep the memories of these Ages and their deeds alive as much as you can. Speak of the Fellowship, of Rivendell and the fair things of this world, so that in the future men may remember and dream that their futures are as glorious as our past, a time that we have been privaledged to live through. And on this night, which may turn out to be the last we spend together, I bid you thanks for you company and you friendship. Farewell now, for I do not wish to linger. Me and Shadowfax have a task to accomplish, and you shall not hear of us again.'  
  
He waited silently with the hobbits until sundown, when they set off on the long road that would take them back to the Shire and the Grey Havens. Sam announced that he would only take ship if Bill went with him. Then Gandalf turned the great horse into the sunset. All alone he rode, the last defence of the forces of good.   
  
Outlined on a hill against the red gold of the setting sun with Gandalf clad in his shining white robes, Glamdring raised above his head, Shadowfax reared. For a moment they were molten silver against the sun, as Shadowfax screamed his defiance to the forces of evil, and Gandalf yelled his challenge to all those who would oppose him. Then a strange mist enveloped them and they were gone, maybe to Valinor, maybe to some part of the world that has no name in Man's knowledge.  
  
And it is said that the pair dwell there still, keeping watch over the descendants of the Men of Middle Earth, although the world has changed beyond all comprehension. Shadowfax's hooves strike thunder from the ground as he gallops, lightning leaps from Gandalf's staff at need, and the pair shall stay there until dawn no longer comes to this world and all memory of the Fellowship is gone.  
  
  
  
I finished it at last! Hurrah! Please let me know what you think about this. And don't forget to watch the film in 9 days! 


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